As I’ve set a number of stories and at least one full novel in a particular fictional town (first conceived of and created in my college years in the late 1980s!), I’ve decided to use that town as the setting for the new project. Wondering just where all those old stories were and what I could glean from them for the new project, I plugged in the flash drive I’ve been carrying around in my purse for who-know-how-long and on which I’d copied files from some computer I no longer use. Which one? No idea. Maybe the Dell from 2014? Surely not the Gateway?

(I found a Word file on there from 2001, obviously moved from hard drive to hard drive over the years, if that tells us anything.)

So today, opening certain story files and saving them as Google Docs, I can’t believe how much (and yet how little) I’ve actually written in 30 years. More distressing, my oeuvre is a MESS. Over the years I’ve graduated from paper copies to electronic file storage on a computer hard drive to floppy disc and then a thumb drive. Now there’s the cloud, of course. My files are stashed everywhere and tucked into various folders here, there, everywhere.

I probably ought to copy all of them, I think, opening, closing, reopening flash drive folders. Maybe I ought to print them all out in hard copies, too.

But how to start? Between fictional short stories ranging from high school up until last week, plus my newspaper articles and several novels in draft, my life’s work is housed in manila folders in milk crates and a filing cabinet, thumb drives (and even one bright pink, plastic floppy disk!), and the cloud–all in weirdly-named folders that bear little relation to other weirdly-named folders from years (decades) gone by.

This personal literary equivalent of an archaeological dig brought up some interesting bits and pieces. I scraped here. Brushed cobwebs off there. Stuck artifacts into new files. Wiped my sweaty brow with the back of my dusty hand (figuratively) and dug some more, growing ever more dismayed.

Did I mention the manila folder of clippings from magazine and newspapers related to this fictional town and its inhabitants and conflicts? See photo above.

It goes beyond saying that I’m resisting (fighting tooth and claw) the idea of actually cataloging the whole darn mess, which would be the responsible and professional thing to do, right? Instead, I’m jangling with anxiety (might also have something to do with the three cups of coffee I’ve consumed this morning) and wondering, “What have I lost and how can I possibly get my act together?”

Yes, I’m afraid I’ve lost files. In fact, I vaguely remember some stories that I haven’t unearthed today or in years (decades) past. Do they even matter? Hopefully my writing has matured and improved in thirty years, so perhaps they existed solely as practice sessions, allowing me to grow my writer muscles.

I need to let them go.

Deep breath. Okay. There are some strategies I can use to ease my anxiety. I can take a walk to clear my head. I can meditate and maybe do a few yoga stretches. I can practice gratitude. I haven’t lost everything, after all, and what remains is in fine shape. A little antiquated, maybe, but useful.

Besides, starting anew brings freshness and light to ideas squirreled away long ago in dim and dusty corners of my psyche, buried over time by the sediments of new thoughts, knowledge, and experiences. I’ll spelunk and catalog, dust off and polish, and hand the pieces over to my muse to work on. It will give her something to do besides file her nails and swig her martinis down there in her plush underground lair. She’s the one in the silk pajamas and feathered mules reclining on the sapphire velvet sofa. I, on the other hand…am not.

Anyway, I’ll hand her the pen and tell her it’s time to work, missy. And then she’ll laugh at me and light her cigarette and demand another olive, because that’s how muses roll, but eventually she’ll sigh and get down to business.

After all, she doesn’t want to be the one digging and doing the heavy lifting.

She might break a nail.

*****

How about you? Do you have old projects stashed away in odd places? Does digging into them bring up feelings of anxiety and confusion? Or are you the type of person to finish something (or not) and let it go once it no longer serves you? I’d love to hear from you.

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This Post Has 8 Comments

Wendy

Funny, as I read your blog post….I thought….and all I was trying to do today with regards to archives….is work though my current inbox looking for receipts for taxes…….not as exciting, BUT I did get some writing in on Post-Crash Procedures!

MARTHA J BROSIO

Shelley Burbank

The project will be exciting if it is accepted. I still have the second part of my current book to write, but this project needs to get started if I hope to be put into the schedule. Cross your fingers for me!

Mary Ann

It must be that time of year my friend. I dug through my closet recently and tried to organize the beginnings of all the projects I’ve started over the recent years. I now have a milk crate with 10 three ring binders and a folder titled Projects on my lap top. All in various stages of character creations, storylines(yes there are a few that I actually attempted to map out), and even that finished Bridge novel that is waiting for me to send out another round of inquiries about. And not even sure where I want to begin after that. Excited to hear more about your project!!!!!

Shelley Burbank

Mary Ann, now that you mention it, I recall your telling me about your cleaning out/organizing project. I’m so glad it went well. Wow. TEN binders! The thing about hard copies is that…there they are. I love that. With the e-files, I’ve had to copy and move them so many times. I think the cloud will alleviate that issue, but of course I should probably back up on an external drive every week, minimum. And I’m chuckling about your comment about storylines mapped out because I know how you love being a panster rather than a planner. What ARE you going to work on next?

I will share more about the project when I can. I’ve made a pretty good dent in the synopsis and character list areas, but both still need to be flushed out. And I also need to write five or six chapters to go with the proposal. Attempting to do this and write Rosalie at the same time. (And to be honest, procrastinating on Rosalie way too much, so this other project gives me something writerly to do during my work hours.)

Thanks for popping in!

Debbie Broderick

Fascinating to read, since, yes, I can relate. I have letters and memoirs in all kinds of unconnected, discrete places and in various media formats. But yet I don’t have the inclination to organize and unify them – I definitely regard older pieces of writing as ‘building blocks’ for the current me, though not necessarily salvageable.